MOMO memories

It's lunch time, a fresh

batch of Momo is cooking

slowly inside on the noisy

kerosene stove. A large circular

aluminum dish carries

an array of steaming

fresh meatballs wrap in a thin

skin of white flour.

Nearby, a bowl of earthen clay holds

a slurry of spicy tomato with

flecks of white mustard in it.

Its smell fills the kitchen.

A young tall guy with a yellow

shirt calls over the coupon number

from the counter. I stand in the

long line and grab a steaming bowl

of Momo dipping in the spicy pickle

from the serving table.

The fresh batch of Momo is about to

run out and the customers are

waiting for the second tray to come out.

I walk away with a tang of Momo

 flavors in my mouth and a

tong of soup from the Momo counter

back to work that late afternoon.